


Everyone Loves A Tentacle

by mansikka



Series: Everyone Loves A Tentacle [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, M/M, Multiverse, POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: There are many people in this world who probably shouldn't be left alone with spell books. Evan Buckley is one of them...
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Everyone Loves A Tentacle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099553
Comments: 13
Kudos: 32





	Everyone Loves A Tentacle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> So, here's a little adventure that starts off in my favourite little multiverse, and ends up with tentacle!Buck. There's plot and everything! Sort of...
> 
> It will be posting in three separate parts: 
> 
> 1) How Buck ends up with tentacles (there is a clue, an easter egg if you will, in [The Host With The Most](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28453137)),  
> 2) How friends rally round to support Buck (and Eddie) with those tentacles (these friends are from the multiverse adventures I've been writing),  
> 3) Buddie tentacle porn (I don't need to explain that).
> 
> I think that covers it. But there will be notes on each of the parts! Happy reading!

**Buck**

These books are fascinating. Buck carefully pushes the one he is reading on the coffee table still reading as he stands, then having to make a run for the bathroom. He's been putting it off for ages; it's just that the passage he's been reading is so damn intriguing that he has been promising himself 'five more minutes' every few words. So Buck does what he needs to, makes a detour to the kitchen for snacks and drinks, then gets settled in the corner of his couch again. Eddie took an extra half shift to help someone out, Christopher is with Abuela, and Buck is having the best night in on his own ever.

Life is good. He and Eddie are amazing, this rare night alone a happy one with his reading interspersed with their messages. Eddie is coming here straight after his shift so they can spend tomorrow together. It really doesn't get much better than that.

And this book. Buck can't stop reading. Eyeing the pile he has already worked through on the floor beside him, Buck hopes Magnus will be free for him to come through and pick up some more in a few days. If he can make this one last that long. Which probably won't happen; this is the third pile he's worked through since New Year. The words are fantastical, and all the language just on the edge of his sphere of believing—Buck likes to think he has a fairly open mind. Talk of beings that he has only come to hear about because of all the movies Eddie constantly shows him—because he needs an _education in pop culture—_ are so casual on these pages. The authors might as well be describing their friends and neighbors instead of fantastical beasts and creatures. In fact, in a lot of cases, they are describing just that; the people they know best. And they are people; just with scales, tails, and other appendages. How can Buck not be thoroughly intrigued?

Washing back a mouthful of the trail mix Eddie insists on having here in the apartment with beer, Buck turns yet another page, startling for the crude sketch in the middle of it. There is a symbol as the background to a stern-looking man with long hair and a pointy nose. It is comically pointy, like it is of a marble statue that has been whittled down to nothing. But is it real? With everything Buck has learned in the past ten months or so, it seems like pretty much anything could be possible.

Buck leans across to the coffee table for his phone, pausing from reading to message Eddie. He sends a selfie on request, smiling when he receives one right back.

_I can't wait to see you,_ Eddie writes, which only makes Buck grin even harder.

_Only a few short hours. You'll be tired?_

_Not too tired for you._

_I will hold you to that. Get some rest if you can?_

_I will. Love you._

Buck smiles his happiest smile and sighs, writing his own I love you back. Following it with an excess of kisses, Buck makes sure the message sends before getting back to his book.

It's so good. Buck mumbles along to some of the stranger words sure parts of the text must be written in a mixture of Latin, German, and... something else. Definitely not Spanish. Buck knows enough of that to more than happily get by, but this? This is incredible. Tapping his finger over a difficult word like that might help keep his place, Buck stands and puts some music on for background noise, tossing the remote on the couch.

"What does that mean?" Buck asks himself out loud, trying to work out even how to pronounce the word he is reading. _Verf_? _Hoorn_? _Hoof_? What on earth is that? He laughs as he takes another handful of trail mix then reads the whole sentence out, like that might make more sense of it.

Buck's legs crumple from under him. He calls out as he slumps back against the couch, sure there is light, and heat, and the strangest tugging sensation making his legs feel like jelly. To his horror, when Buck convinces himself to open his eyes, he looks down at his lap seeing no legs at all. In their place is a writhing mass of tentacles in a range of thicknesses, in different shades of red. In places, they are iridescent like fish scales, where the main... shaft of them, he supposes, looks just like flesh. And when he goes to move, they ripple, undulating in waves. He lifts one, like he might an arm, cautiously inspecting the underside of it, his heart hammering at the sight of suckers along its tip and a good six inches or so down. Or up. Which way is up right now, anyway? What the hell is he supposed to do now?

Without taking his eyes off his new limbs, Buck snags his trembling fingers around the edge of his phone, desperately searching for Magnus' number.

* * *

The light of the portal makes Buck wince. He holds his hand up to shield his eyes. Buck has never been as relieved to see another human in his life.

Well. Warlock, anyway.

"Hi, Magnus," he calls out far more cheerfully and calm than he's feeling. What the hell is happening to him?

"Evan," Magnus says as he rushes towards him looking worried, "your message said—oh."

He's spotted them, then. Though how couldn't he? There is no way for Buck to hide the tentacles streaming from his torso. If they weren't attached to him, Buck might even think they are an odd sort of beautiful.

He is still, uh, under there. He checked, lifting his tentacles to check other parts are still intact because as if it isn't weird enough that he's misplaced his legs, he needs to know he can still use the bathroom. Amongst doing other things. Not that he has any intention for Eddie to see him like this to do those other things with.

"I, uh... I think I maybe read something I shouldn't."

Magnus flares his fingers for the book. Buck thinks it's in irritation.

"Evan. Can you show me the page that you were reading from?"

His hands trembling, Buck finds the page and slides it across to Magnus' lap when he sits. "I swear; the second I said this word out loud, these things just... grew, out of nowhere."

"Which word?"

"This one. _Voelhoorn_."

Did he imagine the way he just saw Magnus wince? If he did, then he definitely didn't imagine the slight slump of his shoulders and the soft oof of a groan from his mouth.

"Well. That would explain many things."

"It would?" What would explain him sprouting these things out of nowhere?

"Yes."

"Then... could you maybe explain it to me?"

Magnus pinches over his eyes, clearing his throat before even looking at him. When he does, he gives Buck a flicker of a nervous smile. "Well. Among other things, _voelhoorn_ is Dutch. For tentacle."

"...tentacle?" Though why is he surprised? That is what he has now. Tentacles. Tentacles instead of legs. What the hell has he done?

"And the spell name itself; it tells us everything. _Van_ _vele_ _ledematen_ ," Magnus says in a commanding, presumably Dutch accent. "Which means, of many limbs."

"...oh."

"This is my fault," Magnus adds then, closing the book and standing, pacing across the room in front of him between the coffee table and the TV. Buck is struck by the thought that if this was Magnus and Alec's apartment, he could be pacing for far more many minutes before he'd even see him again. But now is not the time to be thinking about that.

"What is?"

In earnest, Magnus sits back down, perching primly on the edge of the couch. Though then he's off again, pacing a furious tight loop back and forth across Buck's lounge. If everything wasn't so crazy, Buck thinks he might be dizzy just for watching.

"I should have checked the books you were borrowing. I should have known—"

"No, Magnus; this is all on me. You told me not to read from the books out loud, and, I did. It's my fault."

"Drink?"

What? "Uh. Sure? In the fridge there's—"

Magnus snaps his fingers interrupting him, Buck jolting for the martini glass appearing in his hand. He watches Magnus finish his in three quick gulps before refilling, then takes a sip of his own. It's good, clean and strong as it goes down. Perfect; he needs it. Buck downs his martini not even having to ask for Magnus to top it up again.

"Are you angry with me, Magnus?" Buck asks when Magnus finally sits back beside him.

Magnus' eyes flare in alarm. "What? No, not all."

"But you said—"

"And you are an inquisitive, intelligent man, who has apparently been left to his own devices. I know how dangerous that can be," Magnus adds, clearing his throat and toying with his ear cuff.

Relief hits Buck, at least momentarily; he does still have a lapful of writhing tentacles in place of legs. Still, if there is anyone in the world who can get him out of this mess again, surely it is the warlock sitting by his side?

"I don't suppose there's a... counter-spell for this?" Buck asks while sipping at his martini, feeling the alcohol flood through him hoping each wave of it brings more calm. Though he is calm; Buck is more afraid that he isn't afraid than he thinks he would be were he afraid. Or something; this whole Shadow World thing is confusing.

Magnus takes a short breath in, like he doesn't want to take on too much air; it is the smallest of gestures, so Buck's heart shouldn't be beating like it is for seeing it. "I am afraid that with such... limb growth, with this particular spell, reversal is, at best, impossible. And at worst, perilous."

"Perilous?" Buck asks, watching Magnus pulse his magic over the things again. The tentacles. His tentacles. How is he going to explain this to anyone?

"Yes. This is a very old, very volatile spell, created by an... acquaintance of mine."

Buck looks over his tentacles and thinks Magnus needs better acquaintances. "Who?"

"Helge. The High Warlock of Amsterdam. A rather surly man with a particularly vindictive dislike of Mundanes. The spell was created as a... deterrent, we could say."

"Deterrent?"

"Yes."

"To? Against?"

Magnus gulps his martini back, absently snapping his fingers to fill it yet again though this time putting the glass on the coffee table. "My dear Evan. Typically, those of the Shadow World do not mingle freely with Mundanes. Those without Shadowhunter blood, or Downworlder blood; like yourself. Shadowhunters are supposed to protect Mundanes from the more unscrupulous who dwell within the Shadow World. Which often means, protecting Mundanes from Shadowhunters," Magnus adds with a twist of a smile.

"Okay?"

"More often than not, Shadowhunters are protecting Mundanes from one thing only."

"What?"

"Themselves," Magnus says with a rueful glance over Buck.

"I... guess that makes sense."

"Though, despite all our best efforts to keep these two worlds separate, there are some Mundanes who must have something of their lineage within the Shadow World; enough to be aware of those around them without quite seeing. Often, these Mundanes are more likely to be immune to our attempts to glamor, or create barriers for them not to pass through."

"To... keep them from reading spells like this?" Buck asks.

Magnus' face ripples with amusement before he gets it under control. "Amongst other things, yes. Now, in this particular case; Helge has never been known for his patience. I have known him for at least 300 years. He is particularly intolerant of what he feels is Mundane meddling."

"So, he created this spell to...?"

"To punish, I suppose. To punish Mundanes who, some century or so ago, took it upon themselves to break into his personal library," Magnus says, tracing his black polished fingertip beneath a line on the page. Is that what it says?

"So, this head warlock—"

"High warlock."

"This high warlock. He made this spell, to—"

"It is a rather elaborate prank," Magnus says with a grimace. "The aim of which is to deter Mundanes from setting foot in his library again."

"So, if there's no counter-spell—"

"You will just need to wait this out," Magnus finishes for him; exactly as Buck started fearing he might say. But how? What reason can he give for not working, or not answering his door? More importantly, what is he going to tell Eddie?

Magnus reaches out, awkwardly patting his arm. "I apologize, Evan, that there is little I can do. Are you in any pain?"

Curious, Buck gives a ripple of his tentacles, watching them flow over one another and fan out. He won't think about how, technically, he's sat here with Magnus naked from the waist down, wearing nothing but an old army t-shirt of Eddie's that he's claimed as his own. The tentacles, as thick and numerous as they are, cover all the important bits. They have that going for them at least. "No. Not at all. It's just like... having arms, I guess. Lots of them. Legs. Something."

"Have you tried moving on them yet?"

"Not much yet. This happened, I sat here watching them, then messaged you."

"A very wise decision," Magnus says, tapping the bottom of Buck's glass telling him to drink up. "Well. I apologize for this... inconvenience."

"It's a little more than an inconvenience, Magnus."

"Of course. I only meant that I am sorry for my part in allowing this to happen."

"Don't be. We, uh... can both take our blame for being dumbasses, huh?"

Magnus likes that, apparently, for the deep, rumbling chuckle Buck hears. "Yes. I suppose we can."

"So, what do I do?"

"I will take care of everything. You needn't worry," Magnus says as he stands, looking him over.

"Magnus—"

"I will deal with your place of employment, and whoever else you need to not know about this."

"How?"

"Various glamors, and charms. Some magic. And a rather intricate spell."

"You mean, altering memories?" Buck says in alarm. What kind of permanent damage will that cause?

Magnus picks up his glass, explaining how what he has in mind will make it seem as though Buck hasn't been anywhere at all—that no one will really notice. It sounds far more complicated than Buck can really get his head around, though he does splutter in protest when he hears Magnus say two weeks are needed.

"Magnus; I can't—"

"I am afraid you will need to."

"You're telling me I'm... stuck with these things, for two whole weeks?"

Magnus nods, contrite. "That is what the text implies. Perhaps as many as sixteen days."

"Seriously?"

"At worst, seventeen," Magnus says, not quite making eye contact. "The text is just threatening enough for me to assume he meant to instill more fear about this than is strictly necessary. Still. You do have tentacles. That much is... evident."

"But I can't... how do I stop people from seeing me like this?" Buck asks, his stomach dropping for the thought of not seeing Eddie for two weeks. Or anyone. And because his brain decides to taunt him, Buck gets stuck with the image of pouring himself out of a firetruck attending a fire. For the thought of his face hitting the floor when his tentacles get tangled around a firehose, Buck has to close his eyes. No. This isn't happening. He's going to wake up, really, really soon.

"I will arrange for you to be elsewhere. And Eddie."

"We can't go anywhere without Christopher. And I can't let him see me like this," Buck says, now horrified at the thought of scaring him. He can't let him see these things.

"I assure you. You will be gone for two weeks—or however long it takes—and know every moment. For everyone else here, it will be merely the blink of an eye. I need a little time to prepare a few spell ingredients. I would suggest that you call Eddie. I have a feeling you will need the company. Hello, by the way," Magnus adds with a soft smile and an affectionate squeeze of his arm, "I don't believe we said that yet."

"Sorry, Magnus, no; we didn't. Hi. Thanks for coming so quickly."

"It is I who should be thanking you. You saved me from a particularly dull Clave meeting; I am sure Alec will be making adequate excuses for me as we speak," Magnus says, his eyes now filled with glee.

Buck would ask more about this Clave, highly suspicious of the institution that he has read so much about. Though Magnus apparently intends to keep him busy. Buck watches in amazement as Magnus stands and with only a wave of his hand sends the coffee table scooting back across the floor. When Magnus moves to stand in front of him extending his hand, Buck presses back further into the couch.

"What?"

"These are yours, for the next two weeks or more. I would suggest that the quicker you get used to moving around on them, the easier it will be to come to terms with them being there."

Seriously? Buck flares his tentacles out to test their strength and flexibility, mumbling an apology when he snaps one against the side of Magnus' leg. Thankfully, he only looks amused, flaring his fingers in encouragement.

He can do this. Buck slips his hand into Magnus' leaning on his arm as he hauls himself up, surprised that being upright comes so easy to him. He stands at his usual height, and once he gets a feel for how the tentacles coil beneath him, can make himself a little taller or shorter as desired. Magnus nods in encouragement, holding on to Buck's hand until he is more confident, then steps back to give him room to move. Hysterical laughter bursts from Buck; this is like those things he tried in the park once with Maddie. Segways. It's like being on a segway that he has total control over without even having to hold on, and can go in any direction. It's kind of fun.

"How do they feel?"

"Actually, okay," Buck says, reaching out with his tentacles to touch the kitchen island, the stair banister, and anything else he feels like noticing how different they feel against the tentacles when compared with his hands.

"You are a natural," Magnus says, his praise probably meant to reassure him. Buck is reassured, and more nervous about that than he likes. Though then he gets the idea to wrap a tentacle around one of the banisters and see if he can, well, dangle from it. Which he can, laughing in delight as he swings and looking up to see Magnus laughing as well.

"How is this all so easy?"

"Well. They are yours. They are a part of you. It goes without saying that they should feel... natural."

"They really do."

"Friends of mine with, shall we say, more permanent tentacles, are often in awe of those without them, or with fewer limbs. They are useful."

"Yeah. I don't want them all the time, or anything, but, I guess I can get that," Buck says. He has his phone in one tentacle, his glass in another that he can easily hold to his lips like it's gripped in his fingers. While drinking he turns the music off altogether with yet another limb, and can even pick up the pile of books on the floor in the curl of another.

Magnus looks on in amusement before clearing his throat. "Well. Now that I know you are adjusting, I should return home, so that I can prepare what I need to help you."

"And I just... stay here?"

"Is there anywhere you need to be?"

"Not really. Eddie will be here in a few hours though," Buck adds, his stomach giving a nervous clench. What will he say?

"Then, relax. I will be back in ample time to help explain things. I can take those books you've read back with me if you'd like? Find you some more? Preferably without any tentacle spells in them."

"That would be great. Thank you."

"Please relax," Magnus insists, squeezing his arm. "I promise I will be back shortly. Message or call in the meantime should you have any questions. I'll send you some books through."

Buck nods. What else can he do? "Okay. Thank you."

"Okay. Once we get you set up, I am sure there will be plenty of people for you to speak to, so you won't feel alone in all this."

Who would he share this with? Though Buck then thinks about all the friends he and Eddie have made through Magnus and Alec, and relaxes. None of them would be weirded out by this; not like their other friends might. Mundanes. They're Mundanes, Buck thinks with a burst of joyful laughter, and right now, he is not. Though what is he? Is there a word for this?

"Okay. I'm, uh, good for now."

"I'll send you something to read, to keep you busy. Though I would suggest sleep, also."

Buck follows Magnus' gaze to the window. It's dark out, and when he messaged Eddie, it was after ten. After everything, Buck thinks he can be forgiven for forgetting the time. "I'm sorry, Magnus. You said I was keeping you from a meeting?"

"No, no; you called at the perfect moment to allow me the excuse of not attending," Magnus tells him, clasping his hands together and spinning from him.

"Right."

"Sit. Relax. Or sleep; give me perhaps ten, fifteen minutes to go through to choose you some more books, then I will send them before you rest."

"Okay. Okay; I'll... see you soon."

"You will. I will be here at around, let's say, seven in the morning. Before Eddie arrives so we have time to prepare. Yes?"

"Yes."

Magnus pats him on the arm, opening a portal. "Leave everything with me. The least I can do in this situation is make sure you have everything you could possibly need, or want."

Buck smiles, watching him step through the portal, then stands in silence after he's gone. Is he standing? This is standing? What else is he going to call this?

Not knowing what else to do, Buck locks up, rinses the glasses that Magnus has left, then climbs the stairs, which is far more fun than it is usually. He takes a shower, which is also hilarious, snorting with laughter for the way he can sucker himself to the wall and hold himself up. He'll worry about Eddie's reaction later. Right now, Buck is having fun.

Sprawling out in bed, Buck rolls over to connect his phone to its cable then rolls back; he has all these extra limbs now so why not put them to use? With his head propped up on pillows, Buck pulls the cable from the nightstand drawer, plugs it in at the power outlet, attaches the cable, and then sets an alarm. All without using his hands. These things are weird, but they're also amazing. He might as well make the most of them.

Just as he closes his eyes Buck hears a soft whooshing noise and looks down at the foot of the bed. Magnus, true to his word, has sent through a large stack of books. Buck can't resist taking a peek at least at the titles before sleeping.

About a third of the way down is a thinner book that immediately catches his eye for the drawing of tentacles writhing over its cover. Turning the pages, Buck's stomach drops in amazement, excitement, fascination, horror, and maybe a little bit of arousal as well. Magnus sent him a book on tentacle sex? And told him he should call Eddie to keep him company? Buck splutters with laughter, though with every turned page is more intrigued. _Interesting_. These next two weeks, while strange, could be a lot of fun...


End file.
